Be mine or you will burn
by Jervis Tetch Madness
Summary: What if it were Clopin, instead of Esmeralda, that Judge Claude Frollo found his sinful and unholiest desires directed to? M/M Clopin/Frollo (Because they're not enough Clopin/Frollo- At all)
1. Me, or the Pyre

_A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters are not mine, and I highly doubt they ever will. Disney verse, but characters are from the French Gothic novel by Victor Hugo published in 1831._

_Alright, so, explanation. This idea came to me when I was watching The Hunchback of Notre dame, and during the Festival of Fools scene when Clopin Trouillefou just kinda shows up behind Frollo's 'judicial' chair, and just kinda touches him. Not sure how that sprung up an 'undone' pairing that 'seems to have no shippers whatsoever and it's depressing-'. This is Slash, which is guy x guy, M/M- Homosexuality. As bluntly as possible, so of you do not approve, do not read, because I KNOW Frollo (And Clopin) has some awesome faithful psycho fangirls out there that I'd rather not be on the battle end of. But yes, Frollo x Clopin._

_So, yeah. Imagine, what if it was Clopin (King of Truands- King of the Gypsy's) instead of Esmeralda, that Frollo finds his 'hellfire attraction' directed to? What if it was Clopin that stood up for Quasimodo and defied the judge in replace of the Gypsy girl, and what if it were he that had run into the church for sanctuary from the guards and knights. Befriended the giant beast, and was aided in escape before soon being caught by a series of unfortunate events where the judge had come across the Court of Miracles. What if Frollo burned down all of Paris in search for the Gypsy king, and that the offer for the pyre or himself was given when the last moment arise? The sin of romance and dirty perverse thoughts clouding Frollos mind when he gazed upon the man. The disgust and fear that Frollo faced when he was forced to realise that his desires were directed to a man. (Homosexual relations back then, or mere thoughts of it, were ungodly, and it was even worse when they involved a Gypsy)  
_

_Sound good? No? Didn't think so. But I believed that this pairing needed more justice, it's unlikely, but I don't know, I like it. Anywho, I hope I got my message across, and please, do enjoy the story; and if you think I should continue, please let me know, because I'm not sure. Thank you for fighting through my long authors note, and enjoy the story~! ^^_

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The bells of the cathedral rung loudly at this unlucky hour of the day, with people and innocent civilians yelling for these events to stop, the pleading and cries for mercy were left deft on the ears of the 'ritious' and the judicial. They were so loud, but were treated with unnerving silence, against the bells. The loud ringing and clattering of metal against metal, with violent vibrations running through the air in waves, and the Gypsy king looked up almost helplessly up at the bell towers, and wished that his friend would help, but he knew that the giant beast was just as afraid as he was of the monster only so many feet away from him. Judge Claude Frollo.

The ropes were grinding against Clopin's skin, making the flesh grow tender and raw under the rough straw made material. His wrists were tied tightly against the pyres staff, digging into his skin painfully, and stinging every attempt he made to break free. Clopins hips were strapped almost achingly painfully against the staff, while his white prisoner attired shirt clad torso was leaning forward, straining his arms in the process, but he couldn't help it.

"-..and all of the unholy sorcery he had committed against god, and all of his people..-"

Frollo, read professionally from the papers in his hands, reading off all of the 'Crimes' Clopin had committed. All of them were dramatically exaggerated on his behalf, but it didn't matter. Who would ever believe a Gypsy?

"-..soiling the streets of Paris with his vermin followers behind him every step of the way..-"

Now, that sounded like more of a personal remark than a crime, but evidently nobody could tell the difference. Deep chocolate brown eyes looked over towards the largely oversized executioner, who wouldn't be putting an end to his life this sickening day. The cool airs of autumn brushed past his body in a blur, making the edges of his clothing flutter, and his thick raven black hair almost dance. He felt almost exposed without his mask, and proper attire; his clothing having been taken away, most likely burned, and his hat and earring removed.

His body thrashed against the restraints, as Frollo gave him a look. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he saw so much resentment, loathing, and a hit of something that made the Gypsy king's heart sink, and he wasn't sure why.

The wooden planks under his feet felt rough and he could feel some loose jagged splinters stabbing at his heels, it hurt, to say the least, but nothing he couldn't handle. He moved his body slightly, only to feel the skin and muscle strain against one another as the rope pulled painfully against his limbs, a frustrated puff of air blew out of his lips.

"-..his sins against man, and thievery of the people of Paris." Frollo finished, turning his attention to glance at the Gypsy a moment, before extending an arm to take the torch from the larger male. He handed the papers to him and made short steps to the Pyre where large bundles of sticks were being second-handedly tossed around the distressed looking king. Frollo watched in sickening pleasure as the pace of the man's breathing quickened, if only just slightly, as the judge approached.

A demeaning glare passed over Clopins features when a soft cold chuckle broke past the judges lips.

"The time has come, Gypsy." Frollo sneered, waving the torch in his hands slightly with a swift flick of his wrist. "You stand upon the brink of the abyss." His tone was deceiving, and showed false pity, mixed with amusement lacing his professional tone.

"Yet even now it is not too late." When these words were spoken, Clopin looked up at him, question and distrust in his large eyes, a slight eyebrow raising in query. Frollo gave a nearly morbid smile, cold piercing eyes staring right through the Gypsy king, and leaving the man feeling uneasy. "I can save you from the flames of this world, and the next." The elder man propositioned, hope began to flutter up the sides of the dark haired man, but questions and uncertainty tainted his mind.

Frollo's face came closer, almost uncomfortably so. He could feel the hot breath brush his cheeks as the older man spoke, and the heat radiating from the fire at such close distance. Frollo's face contorted into something awful, aging features holding words that weren't coherent or made any sort of legible sense, a sort of defiant air suddenly surrounding him in a confident and shattering way.

"Choose me," he paused, before his features turned grave, "or the fire."

Clopin's first instinct was to spit in his face, or snap back a disgustingly vaguer comment that all around just said _No. _However, his words and instincts caught in his throat, his eyes turning to face his people, all locked in cages, some helpless, some broken and dead inside, while others fought tooth and nail, screaming and gritting. The raven haired man looked at them, his expression becoming broken, looking to the ground of the pyre before turning to meet Frollo's gaze.

"If I say yes, will you let my people go?"

Frollo seemed taken aback, leaning away from the Gypsy.

Murmurs edged their way into the already loud crowd, perhaps questioning what had just happened. Nobody could hear what the two in question were saying, for obvious reasons of course, but they strained to anyhow. All they could see were mouths moving, facial expressions changing, and even the small amount of body language that was given.

"No." Frollo stated, face slowly becoming impassive. Clopin's face dropped, before his eyebrows furrowed together defiantly.

"Then I'll happily burn."

A growl escaped the grey haired man's lips, straightening his back impossibly. "You're making a mistake-"

"_You're _making the mistake, _your honor," _A sly, yet serious grin broke across his lips, saying his words in a mocking tone, "You can kill millions of us, but your never going to see the day where the Gypsy's, simply, _disappear." _

"And you'd still risk your life, for these vermin you call family?" It was more of a demanded question than a query merely out of curiosity. He raised his greying brow at the man in question, who only frowned in response.

"I'd rather die with my people, than live without."

"Your imprudence blinds you," Frollo growled, "You're denying yourself life."

"My apologies," Clopin toned in cruel mockery, "But you know us Gypsy's, we're so _selfish."_

"You're a fool-"

"King," Clopin retorted, "I'm the king of fools, or have you forgotten?"

Another low growl escaped his lips, before his eyes dragged over the others face. Disgust, was the first word that came to mind to the judge; disgust for the Gypsy's, disgust for their culture and lifestyle, he was feeling disgust for this man and his utter arrogance for the life around him. How could a man who lived with these vermin everyday for his entire life, be blind to how flawed they were? To how disgusting they are?

Although the longer he looked, the more he was able to compose himself. Mass executions last hours, nearly days with large groups of people. He considered strategical execution, having Gypsy's contained and kill perhaps at least 10 every day, that way he could steer away other Gypsy's if they ever dare step foot in the barriers of Paris. Banishment was an option, but not a very good one; the odds of the Gypsy's actually obeying were fairly slim.

Releasing them? All of them, without even the slightest bit of punishment? What kind of weakness would these people gaze upon him with? This _King of Gypsy's _wasn't worth the embarrassment- yet, he couldn't bring himself to drop the torch.

A sigh escaped the man's lips, before a plan conjured itself up. The idea was plausible, but not full proof, although commendable, it seemed somewhat futile, but if the opportunity were to arise, he will execute each and every single one of these filthy parasites.

"Fine," He sighed, watching as the glare weakened into surprise on the man's face. "I will allow them to leave, but they will be removed from the city, any trespassers will be eliminated, but they will have a chance for survival." His tone grounded itself the more he spoke, hating and loathing every single word dripping out of his mouth. He felt like he was betraying Beta Maria, and for a parasite as well.

He needed him, wanted him, desired so. He had never felt such urges in all of his existence, the burning desire creeping across his flesh and flowing through his veins, to the point of it becoming too painful to bare. Frollo felt like some beast had crawled inside of him, some demon answering the calls of the sorcerers spell, and feeding on the need. His weakness showing through and controlling him; Those large deep bright warm chocolate brown eyes, that have so many words, pictures, and emotions flashing across those expressive orbs, that can be both sinister, and kind.

The thin, slightly shorter posture he held, that contained such confidence when he walked, and moved so agile like, gracefully spinning and jumping for hours on end, as energetic and feisty as he was. The way he spoke, and sometimes sang to the children, sometimes Frollo can hear it when in passing, most of which talking about this and that, that the children would find interesting. The wonder and expression behind each and every syllable that brought Frollo listening intently despite himself, having himself watch in silent wonder with every move the man would make.

He would constantly shake these thoughts from his head, and head to the church to clear his mind. Those were ungodly, and unholy thoughts, and later believed that the man had cast a spell on his soul to make him think as such. Their was no more proof of those accusations other than the perverse thoughts and dreams that would cross his mind in a vivid haze. He needed to control himself, but he couldn't, he still can't.

Murder seemed like the best option in order to get rid of these false emotions, if Clopin were to die, then his spell would dissipate. Although the longer he thought about it, the more distasteful it seemed, right up to the point where he is standing in front of the creature of his unholist desires, and he was trying to find a way to save him.

The king of fools just watched the man, distrust evident in his eyes, but Frollo could care less as to why.

"It's a simple question," Frollo persisted, insisting an answer. "If you choose me, you will live and so will all of your people, you choose to die, you choose their death's as well."

Clopin only took a moment before his head dropped, he was to be a prisoner. All selfishness aside, he turned to face the judge, who seemed to have this manipulative gleam in his eyes.

Clopin nearly faltered, when he thought of his freedom being taken away from him, as he thought about the helplessness of his situation. His people didn't deserve to suffer because he wanted to be selfish and hard headed, too stubborn not to back down; the children's lives were to end if he were too stubborn. Women and the elderly, the infants and toddlers; he would never be able to forgive himself in the afterlife if he did something so immoral.

"I'll do it," The words made the elder man's impassive face break, as a sadistic smile crossed his lips. "Now, let my people go."

Frollo ignored the last comment before turning towards the large crowd. He raised the torch in his grasp high in the air, in order to get everyone's attention. The man opened his mouth to announce the 'Recantment,' but the Gypsy didn't hear a word of it, he was too caught up in himself to pay attention. There was a pause, in which the judge handed over the torch to be put out, heading to one of the guards.

Clopin watched as Frollo commanded distant orders, watching as the soldiers did as they were told, saluting before heading off. A single wave was gracefully presented his way from the elder judge, and very shortly afterwards there happened to be three solders by his side. Clopin felt the digging in his wrists fall away, as well as the extreme discomfort from the ropes dissipate from his midsection.

As if on instinct, his hands instantly snapped to his wrists, rubbing at the raw irritated skin. A rough metal clad hand grabbed his shoulder almost violently, shoving him forward, while another placed his hand on his arm. The third stood behind the other two watching the Gypsy king carefully, as if expecting him to make a run for it.

"Make sure to have him secured in my carriage, before releasing the parasites," Frollo commanded, looking at the three guards, "I will not tolerate any rescue attempts, or escape all the same. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir." The three men muttered, before forcefully pushing the man to said carriage at the bottom of the pyre. He was quickly shoved inside, stumbling on his feet before landing on his stomach; the sound was loud, almost booming in his ears as his body made rough contact with the steel. The ground of the metal transporter was freezing, not to mention hard. The door behind him slammed shut, and he was left in complete and utter darkness.

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_Alright, honestly, what do you think. I think this is messy beyond fixing but then again, I don't know. I really hope you guys like, so thank you for reading, and don't forget to review~! ^^ LLAP_


	2. Have to Offer

_A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters are not mine, and I highly doubt they ever will. Disney verse, but characters are from the French Gothic novel by Victor Hugo published in 1831._

_Well, I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting any reviews for my story, and I want to thank you guys for that; and the surprising amount of views I got for this. Thank you guys very very much~! ^^ So, I suppose I'm going to continue this, and well. Yeah. All mistakes are mine, and I hope you guys enjoy and thank you for reading~!_

_Warning: Language, Violence, and hints of sensual material.  
-Remember, this is slash, and will have slashy.. things.. in later chapters. Just not immediately; I'd rather not rush the story. Enjoy!_

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Hands clawing at his shoulders, and grips tightening painfully around his wrists, struggling to stay upright on his feet. The guards dragged him across the concrete of the building, scraping the bottom's and tops of his feet in the process. Clopin struggled ruthlessly against the restraints, against the hands, but his effort was fruitless from the sheer strength in numbers. His arms felt strained, shoulders aching from supporting his body, and the sides of his body being slammed against the men's charcoal black armour, bruising his thin agile frame.

The solders were silent, deathly so, as they roughly pushed him against the side wall; a hand that was holding the back of his neck had released it's hold, before footsteps retreating had made themselves known. The hallway was dark, and the air was chilly when it brushed against bare skin; Clopin couldn't see a thing, other than the small candlelight shadows dancing across the concrete by his face. The pressure applied to his body that pressed him against the wall, prevented the Gypsy from turning his head to see where the knight had gone. Clopin could hear a distinct 'snap' before a heavy groaning of metal scraping against stone. The footsteps came closer once again and took hold of his neck, before his body was pulled from the cold concrete wall.

He tripped on his feet slightly, the backs of his bare heels scrapped against the freezing floor, before he quickly hoisted his body up as best as he could; the hands pushed him forward once again, turning, before shoving him through an open doorway.

The hands had let go, and a single unnecessary kick in the back made him fly forward, landing ungracefully on his upper torso and jaw. A few insulted curses passed one of the knights lips, before a bounty of gruff chuckles joined in; Clopin attempted to hear what he said, but the door had been slammed shut, with an undistinguished 'snap' indicating a lock, before the voices, and the footsteps retreated down the long hallway.

The Gypsy's eyes widened, tugging at his wrists which were still bound tightly together. The more he pulled, the more spurts of pain he found shooting up his arms, his skin was raw and it hurt terribly. Moving his knee's, he was able to 'right' himself, pulling his body as best as he could onto his knees, before moving to stand. He was a Gypsy, not a helpless townsmen.

Had the rope merely been tied to his wrists, he would have been able to slip his arms under his legs, before pulling them in front of his body, to perhaps either chew at the ropes, or find something sharp in order to tear them apart. Unfortunately, the ropes bound his elbows together, and any harsh movements make it increasingly difficult to not to yelp. Especially since his body shouldn't be able to bend in such a way.

He blew a hair out of his face, before getting a better look a the room he was contained in.

He was somewhat surprised that the space wasn't contained, musky, with chains and corpses hanging from the walls. No, he seemed to be in a bedroom of sorts; Clean, and warm, straightened and filled. A bed was off pressed against the left corner of the room from the doors standpoint, covered in a simple yet clean blanket, with two pillows. Clopin stared at the bed for perhaps a moment too long, he could barely remember the last time he had slept in an actual bed, and not on those hammocks in the Court of Miracles.

Eyes wandered away, taking sight of the window placed in the center of the wall, opposite from where he entered. The window was open wide, letting the midday sun stream in, and brighten the room; a strong white and yet somehow red light burst in, and seemed to keep the room so very warm with its presance. Clopin contemplated escape, but quickly shook the notion out of his head, he would do anything and everything to keep his people safe, and perhaps one day he may be released. Gypsy's don't do well in closed contained spaces.

His eyes looked at the window, almost longingly before turning to see a simple table and chair resting beside the window, and nearly a library of books off to the right, taking up the entire wall. Dust was collecting around some of the novels, but Clopin didn't let his eyes linger too long, before they darted to the simple and quaint fireplace burning behind him, turning to face it.

He had never seen a fireplace like this before, with the stone craftmanship etched into the sides, into elegant designs, and yet simple in nature. A fire was burning, and giving a soft orange glow, which contradicted the grey cement surrounding it. A shelf was hovered over the fireplace, which held nothing more than a simple silver cross, hanging right above it.

The room was decent in size, and a lot less gloomy than he had originally presumed it would be. He had the sun, and for now, that was good enough for him.

A chill shot up his back, steaming from his legs. His deep brown eyes darted downward, gazing at his feet. He silently wished they hadn't taken away his shoes, before sighing heavily, making his way to the window.

The view, in itself, was nice. He had the whole of Paris in his sights, and could see Notre Dame off in the middle of it. Not to mention, there were still guards and knights of all sorts held outside, while full wagons of the Gypsy's were being taken away. He hoped his assumption of them being taken from the city of Paris to be correct, for if not.. Clopin shook the thoughts from his mind, he wasn't going to think so negatively, especially at such a critical time.

All he could do was watch, and hope, that Frollo, for once in his life, was true to his word.

Frollo, Clopin sneered, was as vile as they come. He blames the Truands for basic human pleasures and nature, and executes them over the smallest things. He beats them, and tortures them, and loathes what he doesn't understand; Clopin frowned, Frollo hides his own demons and pretends he's so _pure, _that his own unorthodox punishments is justified because he's such an important 'figure' in Paris society.

Clopin grimaced, thinking back to the punishment Quasimodo had suffered, the public humiliation. That wasn't what he had intended to happen; nobody seemed willing to stop it, so he did what he could, and put his foot down. And his face..

_The crowd seemed to grow quiet as he walked up the steps towards the hunchback, who seemed to flinch when he moved too close; Clopin frowned, giving the man some pity, where no one else would._

_"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," He mumbled, grabbing a loose handkerchief from his pocket; Clopin lowered himself, bringing the white cloth to the mans head, before wiping some of the food from his face. The red headed man looked up at him, before giving the Gypsy a sad smile, a silent 'Thank you,'. "I hadn't meant for this to happen."_

_"You!" The voice boomed from across the crowd, Clopin looked up at the assaulting voice, before glaring at the judge. "Gypsy king! Get down at once!"_

_The Gypsy king stood to his full hight, raising his voice significantly louder, "Yes your _honor," _The tidal was spat out like it was acid on his tongue, "Just as soon as I free this poor creature." He gestured to the Hunchback, as if to make his point known._

_"I for-bid it!" Frollo pushed himself from his seat, standing to his full hight as well. Method of intimidation, but Clopin didn't flinch nor back down._

_Clopin reached into back holster, containing certain tricks he thought he could use to amuse the audience, but perhaps they weren't worth the effort. His fingers slid over the edge of the weapon, before his hand snapped to the side, slipping it out of his pocket in a split second, before his wrist flicked and cut across the rope as if it were butter. The restraints containing the gentle beast snapped off of his, releasing him._

_Frollo seemed at a loss for words for a mere moment, before he sneered. "How dare you defy me?" The judge spat, giving the Gypsy a disgusted look._

_"You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people!" Clopin snapped, glaring at the older man, adjusting his foot pointing an accusing finger. The crowd darting glances between the two, unable to speak. "You speak of justice, yet you are cruel to those most in need of your help!" Clopin never got angry, is was rare to see such a flight. He normally mouthed off with a smile, but today their was no mirth, no grin, no smiles._

_"Silent!" Frollo yelled, stepping forward._

_"Justice!" Clopin shouted louder, glaring holes into the older man's facade. The crowd gasped at such defiance against someone with so much power, it was unheard of, and most certainly unexpected. The townspeople know of how the judge had gone head to head with large groups of Gypsy's before, with knights and soldiers at his shoulder, but never one on one, and certainly never directly._

_The citizens could practically hear the snarl grazing at the judges tone, "Mark my words, Gypsy, you will pay for this insolence." His fist clinching and unclenching by his side._

_A smirk tugged at the Gypsy kings lips, "Then it appears we've crowned the wrong fool!" He declared, his tone practically dripping with mockery, his hand snatched the ruined crown from the publically humiliated hunchback. "The only fool I see is you." He gripped the crown and tossed it as far as he could, landing only a few meters away from the judges feet._

Clopin heard footsteps approaching outside in the hallway, the soft yet profound echo dancing off the closed space. The raven haired man turned to look at the wooden door, curious as to whom was already on their way.

His mind wandered to a torturer of some sort, come to whip and beat him to his knees. Clopin growled, Frollo _would _send someone to torture him, after he had lost his people, and his freedom. Opening wounds that never healed in the first place. The Gypsy kind stood his ground, adjusting his feet, and puffing out his chest slightly, back straightening in the process. If he were going to face Frollo's 'play thing' he was going to do so with his pride as a shield, and his dignity in tact.

The footsteps stopped right outside of the large wooden door, and Clopin could hear his heartbeat ringing in his chest, the 'click' sounding off once again, and the door pushed open.

_He felt somewhat contained in these walls, never having stepped foot inside of the Cathedral, and certainly hadn't expected to be chased into one. His eyes turned to look around the walls, but the lingering didn't last long until he heard the Cathedral doors open. Jumping behind one of the posts, he carefully waited for the footsteps approach, and begin to pass; it was a knight in a golden armored uniform. 'Frollo's loyal little spy' he inwardly sneered, hand reaching out and grasping the knights sword handle._

_Stepping out he moved to whack it across the back of the blondes head, but the man ducked, turning to face Clopin. He knew this face.._

_Pushing the knight to the ground, he held the weapon protectively in front of him, pointing it towards the mans throat. "Oh! It's you!"_

_The knight, has face from the street. He had spoken to him a moment after Frollo's little minions scared the children away from his stand; he was telling his tale about Notre Dames bells, and was so _rudely _interrupted. This man had stood up for him, but he couldn't seize the abuse and the insults the knights were saying, or retain the money he had made, but he had scared them off long enough for him to escape._

_The knight held up a defensive hand from the floor, "Easy, easy," He put both his hands up in sound defeat, a flash of concern passing his face, "I just shaved this morning."_

_"Oh really?" Clopin's sneered, moving the weapon closer to the man's throat, "You missed a spot."_

_"All right, just- calm down. Just give me a minute to apologise." The man amended, the statement making the Gypsy king raise a brow._

_"For what?" He queried, before a leg snapped under his feet, making him fall backwards, the weapon falling from his grasp._

_"That, for example." His hand skillfully taking the weapon in hand, and pulling himself to his feet. Clopin glared, forcing himself in an upward position._

_"You dirty little-"_

_"Ah ah ah, we're in a church."_

_Clopin gave him a defiant grin, "Fools decision, fool's choice, care to pick? Leave the jokes to me."_

_The knight gave a small laugh, before he saw Clopin's hands snap out and grasp the black pole of a candlelit staff, pointing it in front of him, before a swing was made. The golden knights eyes widened, ducking under the assault. "Hey!" He yelped when the fire grazed at his cheek when he jolted backward. "Relax!"_

_Clopin attempted another attack and once again the knight dodged, the knight moved out of the way; raising both of his hands, before slowly placing his weapon back in it's holster. "I'm not here to fight."_

_The Gypsy king gave him a cross look, slowly, but surely, moving the weapon upward. "Then what are you here for, spy?"_

_The knight looked at him, before a subtle smile broke across his lips. "Spy? I'm no spy," the man chuckled. "I came to introduce myself. My name is Phoebus," The golden knight gave a small smile, waving his hand idly, "Like the sun god."_

_Clopin gave him an unimpressed look, but didn't place down the weapon. "And your name?"_

_It was weird, having someone ask your name. Like it mattered either way, because eventually, he was always called 'The Gypsy,' or 'King of fools' and the like. It wasn't often people asked, and when they did they never remembered it. A soft unsure sigh escaped the Truands lips, "Clopin."_

_"That's definitely a different name." Phoebus amended, casually dropping his hands to his sides._

_Clopin stared at him, a questionable eyebrow raising, "What? No arrest?" This made the the knight smile, this sad but warming smile. "I can't while you're in here." __The Gypsy king set the weapon upright once again, releasing his hold._

_"You're far more different than most of Frollo's minions," The raven haired man muttered cautiously, "Who are you?" Clopin asked, his guard still strictly high. Phoebus waved his hands in a sure and confident motion._

_"A citizen who admires what you did out there, defending that man the way you did."_

_"Well someone had to," Clopin growled, eyebrows furrowing together, "You and your knights didn't try and stop what was happening."_

_"And we should have." The Gypsy grinned this twisted little grin, eyes glowering._

_"Shoulda, coulda, woulda. All these things are the same to you people, no respect for the poor." The Truand gave a loud mocking laugh, face broken into a large mirth, "Lucky for you, we can hold our own without your 'forsaken' help." The word 'Forsaken' having been used to mock the voice of the judge. Doors flung open, and if on cue, in came the booming voice of the judicial power himself._

_The light crossed through the room, and brightened the dim halls of god exceptionally, the midday sun pouring in. Phoebus muttered to the Gypsy king to claim sanctuary, but he would not. "Good work, Captain." Frollo called out, "Now arrest him!" The golden knight turned to face his commander, face impassive, and utterly professional. Clopin looked in interest at the sudden change in attitude. "I'm waiting."_

_"I'm sorry sir, but he claims sanctuary. There is nothing I can do." The sternness in his voice had caught the raven haired man off guard, compared to the smooth and informal tone he had used before. Frollo seemed displeased immediately at the aspect; voice dripping in obvious frustration._

_The man moved forward, a hand pointing towards the door. "Then drag him outside and.."_

_"Frollo!" Called The __Archdeacon, stepping forward to defend the Gypsy. He must have been watching for a while, but Clopin couldn't be sure. "You will_ not _touch him!" The older man turned to address the Truand, a friendly smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry. Minister Frollo learned years ago to respect the sanctity of the church." The last part he spoke, he pointedly looked at the judge; a kind hand resting on the Gypsy's shoulder._

_Frollo glared darkly at the Archdeacon, before he raised his hand, dismissing his knights to leave, before turning spitefully on his heel. Clopin watched as the Archdeacon grasped the golden knight by the arm, a unkind facial expression on his face, as he took Phoebus's arm, and pulled him, urging him to leave the Cathedral, guiding him to the door._

_Clopin watched in slight amusement, before he felt a hand grasp his arm, pulling it painfully behind his back. The shock subsided, into frustration, as the person behind him's breath brushed across his ear; another arm holding his shoulder in a vice grip. Clopin pulled against the hold, but the events of the day had left him drained, and unable to pull free. A husked whisper of a voice, rasped in his ear._

_"You think you've out witted me?" Came the angered subtle tone, Clopin tugged somewhat harder against the judges grip. "But I'm a patient man," The grip on his wrist tightened significantly, the gruff voice breathing in his ear, "And Gypsy's don't do well inside stone walls." There was a moment of pause, before he felt something press against the side of his head, coming across the loose raven hair that his hat couldn't contain._

_"What are you doing?" Clopin asked, an eyebrow raising in confusion._

_Frollo seemed to be unnecessarily close to his body, before a cold spider-like hand moved to touch his throat, "I was imagining a rope, tied around your vermin neck." The touch made the Gypsy king jolt, his free elbow moving back to connect with the mans stomach, the vice grip on his wrists loosening._

_Clopin snarled at him, "Oh, I _know _what you were imagining." He twisted away from him, making sure to give them both a good distance. The flash of shock slipped away from Frollo's face, before his lips twisted into a smirk. Joining his hands together. "Such a clever little vermin," He leaned forward, as if he were speaking to a small incompetent child. "How typical of your kind-" He moved forward, "-to twist the truth to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts." His distance was almost closed, eyes glaring, and Clopin found himself far more uncomfortable than he would ever care to admit; almost disgustingly so._

_Frollo moved away, "Well, no matter." He stated, almost dismissively, taking his steps further away from the Gyspy king and moving towards the door. "You've chosen a magnificent prison," His gruff political voice echoed off the high walls, "But it's a prison, none the less, step one foot outside," he reached the door. "And you're MINE."_

The door slowly opened, before the tall man stepped inside, his eyes never looking at the Gypsy king. Turning his back on the man, to close the large wooden door properly before locking it. Clopin was completely still, as if he were a prey about to feel the wrath of his predator, but he did what he could so that his body didn't show the fear he felt, the anger.

Judge Claude Frollo turned away from the door, facing the king of fools, before a devious smirk snapped onto his lips, defining the worry-lines under his eyes. His entire era was calm and collected, with a distant air surrounding him, almost suffocatingly so. The smugness just oozing out of the man.

"I must say," He began, his gruff political voice bursting calmly from his lips. "I had expected you to be harder to get my hands on, but you," He moved forward, slowly, calmly, advancing, "You made it almost too simple."

"No, silly man, I had you chase me all through Paris, is that really all that easy?" Clopin grinned, "If so, then perhaps I'll have to try harder. Does England sound good?"

Frollo brushed off the comment, "Their won't be a next time, you're mine."

"Which brings up a _wonderful _question, dear judge," The Gypsy drawled, "What do you plan to do to me, anyhow?" He moved his weight to one leg, as if in deep thought. "Are you.. going to cut me? Or kill me? Perhaps starve me? Yes? No?" His eyes moved across the older mans face, "A private beheading? Those are all the rage these days, ya' know?" He forced a hysterical chuckle, "Or maybe, we could have a bit more fun, and 'Set an example'-" Mocking Frollo's uptight voice, "-Of myself."

"Ah ah ah," The judges voice was smooth as he moved closer, "Why would I kill you after my pursuit?" An eyebrow raised delicately, smirk never dropping from his face.

"Then torture, yes?" Clopin questioned, "A few good whips, and have me admit to my 'sins'?" He chuckled, "Nothing you haven't attempted before, I do believe I still have the-"

"Silence," Frollo waved his hand, halting the Gypsy's words. "I have no desire to cause you unnecessary pain."

The Truand stared at him, his smile fading. Flinching slightly as the Judge reached his hands forward, halting when he noticed the younger man wince. "Don't move." Clopin, if he were anyone else, would have yelped when he was forcefully spun around, facing the window once again, he had no desire to know what was going on behind him as he heard some shuffling from directly behind him; cold spider-like fingers digging into his shoulder.

He closed his eyes tightly, expecting some sort of pain, but instead, was rewarded was a 'snapping' sound; the restraints on his elbows loosening up and falling to the ground. His eyes widened when he realised his arms were being released, both eyebrows shooting upward. The cool thin hand softly moved downward, before clutching the base of his forearm, something sharp was pressed against the skin, but didn't cut; the rope was once again loosened, before falling to the ground.

The hands on his arms seemed to linger a few moments too long, before the Gypsy king felt them move away. On instinct, he pulled his wrists in front of him, rubbing the raw and tender skin that had been grinded against, looking softly puffy and deeply red; his fingertips against the irritated skin, before carefully turning to face the judge.

"Oh, and I thought you liked it when I was bound." The Truand smirked, "What's the change in heart?"

"No change, just indifference." Frollo stated, smirk slipping from his face at the word 'bound'- Such a strange reaction.

"What do you want?" Clopin asked carefully, "No pain, no bondage," He listed, "You take me from my people, imprison me in this.." He gave a slight pause, gesturing around, "-Where ever we are-"

"My home." Frollo interrupted, cutting the Gypsy's voice off entirely. "You are here now, and this is where you shall stay."

"Now why would you bring me here?" Clopin half demanded, "Why not the Prison, or your precious little torture chamber?" He switched which foot he was standing on, before walking towards the book shelves, turning his back momentarily to the judge, a defiant move, before facing the man once again. "I have nothing to offer you anymore," He frowned, "My freedom was all I had-"

"No," Frollo interrupted once again. "You have something that no one else can give me."

"Give you?" The Truand raised a brow, an idle hand moving to brush back his thick raven hair from his face. "The coordinates to the Court of Miracles? You already have those! You have my people, my clothes, my puppet-"

"Silence yourself, you filthy vermin, and listen when I am speaking to you." The older man growled, folding his hands together in front of him, hiding the skin inside of his sleeves. "I show you and your 'species' mercy, and this is how you repay me? Defiance?"

"Oh, I didn't realise saving lives came with a prisoners handbook, and for that I apologise." Came the raven haired mans sarcastic reply, face bland, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Allow me to rephrase, your _honor." _Clopin growled, "What do I have that you could possibly want?"

The smirk on the older man's face tugged at his lips, eyes growing with mirth; the sudden change in expression was uncalled for, and somewhat unnerving, but the man gave no indication that he was in the least intimidated, if anything, he looked annoyed.

Frollo took this as his chance, moving forward slowly, hands unwinding themselves from each other; reaching out to grab the mans arm. "You have a great _deal _of things that I want." His hand felt cold against his skin; the Gypsy pulled his arm away, but it was quickly recaptured.

"Unhand me-" Frollo cut him off, as a hand had snapped to grasp the back of the Gypsy's head, fingers weaved into the hair, and hold the thick strands tightly in his grasp.

"Do not attempt to struggle, or fight me, you insignificant ant in the eyes of god." His grasp tightened, pulling the mans head backwards, before pushing him forward, forcing his back to slam against the side of the heavy wooden table beside the window, causing the Gypsy to stumble. "You belong to me, you _must _obey me-" His face was inches away from the other mans, whose body was quickly lowered against the clear table top; a knee made its way between his legs, his heart speeding up in his chest- the judge moving between the mans long appendages. "-For you have the only thing I want."

Clopin swallowed, before attempting to transfix a glowering dark look at the older man, "And what, dare I ask, do I have to give?" His voice sounded strained, watching as the older man chuckled above him. Firm hands tightening.

"You."

* * *

_No, I will not write rape.- __Clearing that up 'now'._

_I would hate for you guys to get the wrong message here. Frollo may be cruel and unusual, but I've never envisioned him as a rapist- Plot shall be slow moving, and I'll try to through in as many memory's as I can- To help you guys along. ^^ I will, have moments where it 'seems' like something bad is going to happen, don't worry, I love Clopin and Frollo a bit too much to put them in that position. (Ahem) [Although events may *Cough* lean in that direction..] Anyhow, Slow slash, and hopefully you guys still enjoy where this is going, if not, let me know, and tell me how I can fix it. (Also, since this is my first time writing about both Clopin and Frollo, please tell me if they're falling out of character, because I promise you it's unintentional)._

_Thank you all for reading, and don't forget to review~! ^^ LLAP._


	3. Little One

_A/N: Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters are not mine, and I highly doubt they ever will. Disney verse, but characters are from the French Gothic novel by Victor Hugo published in 1831._

_(All mistakes are mine.) Thank you all for all of your fantastic reviews, and for everything. You guys rock ^^ and are very kind. Also, I found out this is called "Fropin," well, that's an interesting name. And this seems to be the only "Fropin" Fanfiction I can find that's legitimate, so that's cool. I came across some amusing 'Fropin' on DeviantArt, (Curiosity) and theres few, but some good stuff on there, so check that out if you're interested. Thank you for reading, and I hope you guys stick with this story. (If not, that's cool, I'll miss you.) ^^ Enjoy~!_

_Warning: Language, Violence, Slight sensual material (Nothing serious.) [Once again- Reminders- No rape.]_

* * *

Freezing hands gripped at his shoulders, the cold wooden table supported his weight, while an undeniable warmth seeped up his thighs, and for once in his life, a fear penetrated at his heart, and he felt panic.

Panic.

This sudden uncontrollable feeling causing him to lash out, causing his mind to shut down and run on autopilot. Clopin's arms thrust forward, shoving almost desperately at Frollo's shoulders, legs thrashing, and eyes painfully wide; feeling surges of adrenaline cut through his veins, and all he knew was that he had to get away, and get away _now. _

Swift spider-like fingers grasped at his flailing wrists, in a bone crushing grip, slamming the strong appendages in an surprisingly stronger grasp. Clopin never felt so alone, so helpless, this crushing sense of perturbation flashing and clutching his heart. He's always been able to slip away from captivity, he's always had a way to freedom. He's disappeared in front of thousands of guards before, army's of men and knights, right before their very eyes, but now-

The face of the judge came closer, features impassive, almost terrifyingly calm, but his eyes- His eyes were a rampage of emotion, terrifyingly cold and unfeeling, yet a flame seemed to spark into a tidal wave of fire behind each deep orb. Clopin couldn't help but stare into those conflicted eyes, and see the heat, the desire and pain, the loathing- The Gypsy could feel his legs being forcefully spread further as the Judge slid his hips along the inside of the Truands long appendages, resting his undeniable heat against the Gypsy's inner thigh, making the man yelp in surprise at the contact.

"Hush little Gypsy," The Judge spoke in a low voice, "Nobody is around to hear your little noise's but me," With an idle hand, he moved across the side of the thin white fabric, touching and feeling the heat radiate from the cloth. His fingers moved over the mans ribcage, touching each individual one with the tips of his fingers, before dragging each digit across his side, landing on the mans jutted angled hips. "You're mine..-" He murmured, watching his hands move, and touch the edge of the mans prison uniform, before slipping under, cold hands embracing the strong heat as they lingered against his darkened belly. ".._all mine."_

Clopin attempted to jerk his body away from the freezing touch, causing unwelcome goosebumps to tarnish his skin at the contact. Thrashing his body as best as he could, "Get _off _of _me!" _He growled, "Or I _swear _I'll-!"

"You'll what?" The judges voice was nothing short of smug, cutting off any words that might have formed in the Truands mouth. "You cannot do anything inside of these walls, you cannot escape nor can you cause harm to myself," The man smirked, "If you know what's good for you and your _people-" _He spat out the word as if he believed it was an overstatement of what those '_creatures' _were. "My hand is all there is, my _rule _is all I need to _crush-" _Fingers dug into the Raven haired mans skin with every word, "_Each _and _Every-one." _Clopin winced in pain, but refused to let it show ion his face, instead he settled for sneering. "Am I perfectly clear?"

"_Va te faire foutre_." Clopin spat out, which only received him a cold-hearted chuckle from the man pressing against him.

"Such _foul _language is to be expected from such a insignificant _parasite_ in the eyes of the Lord." Frollo hissed, his breath brushing against the Raven haired mans face, making the Gypsy jerk his head in the opposite direction. The reaction made the riotous man frown, hand slipping out from under the shirt, snapping up to the man's neck, the back of his hand brushing against the Gypsy's dark beard before grasping the throat, forcing the mans head to face him. "Look at me." He growled, but when Clopin kept his eyes averted, he tightened his grip, and could feel the man resist against his grasp. "I said _look _at _me!" _He snapped, spitting out the words as if it had burnt him.

Clopin looked him directly in the eye, and the judge was slightly taken aback by the flood of negative emotions that hazed the Gypsy's eyes over, "I'm looking at you _dear heart, _and I must say you look better from a distance." The Truand ground out, chewing the inside of his lip contemptuously.

"Silence." Frollo drawled, piercing cold eyes dragged over the others face. Clopin, for once, could make out the color, but didn't have much time to contemplate on it, nor cared enough to try, before the hand from his throat loosened its vice hold, with Spider-like fingers that were capable of feather-like touches, or bone crushing grips.

He felt the hand drag down his chest, he made his body jerk, thrashing his legs once again, careful not to move his hips too much, considering his position, jerking his body every which way, but his motions were strained, restrained, their wasn't much he could do, wasn't enough space to move too far, he was contained.

The movements didn't deter Frollo from his goal, his hand trailing down the mans body, pressing against his hip bone. Clopin could still feel the heated air blow passed the judges lips and onto his face, muttering swears and curses under his breath. His eyes darted up, and found the judge staring directly at him.

His body seemed to freeze up, realising suddenly how 'under attention' he was. As if Frollo was dissecting him with his eyes, unlike a moment before where his orbs were a rampage of emotion and lack of control; but the mans facade hardened, and seemed to be figuring something out, deciding.

Clopins breath got caught in his throat as the man moved his face closer, in the intention of closing the distance.

_People from all across Paris was talking about this new Judge, Clopin could here it from miles away. Some man named Frollo; which brings up the question to what happened to the old one._

_"Well good riddance," Said an elder Gypsy woman, resting against one of the stone walls deep within the Court of Miracles. "He wasn't a very nice man."_

_Clopin laughed, "Never are, Judge Turpin was a stingy old bat."_

_"Now now Clopin," The woman chuckled, "Even though it's true, we don't point it out. What would your parents think?" The young Gypsy looked up at her, giving her a sad small smile._

_"I know Mademoiselle," He gave a quaint shrug, "They would reprimed me for such rudeness at 'Such a young age'." He mimicked his father as best as he could, from what he could remember. It's been so many years, and their faces were fading ever so slowly from memory._

_"You've grown so much," She smiled, "You're how old now? 6?"_

_"One could dream," He chuckled, pulling at his hat, "Add 8 more years to that, and you'll be as close as you'll ever be."_

_"15, you're so old."_

_"Me?" He gave the woman a false exasperated expression, "Says the 50 year old."_

_She swatted her arm playfully, "Oh, you sure know how to talk to women." She smiled at him, to which Clopin bowed._

_"I'm a natural, one day I'll prove it."_

_"Tell me that when you hit puberty." The two of them both burst into a fit of laughs; The elder Gypsy made way to stand, with the help of the young Truand, "Clopin, darling, could you help me out on the surface today?"_

_"Why do you need _my _help?" He teased, "I haven't hit puberty."_

_"Oh hush up, smart mouth." She flicked his nose, making his face scrunch up, before smiling up at the taller woman. "My old bones need some support, especially with dancing."_

_"Are you suggesting we dance together?" He smirked, "And here I thought 'The old are capable of everything'."_

_"You're going to get smacked one of these days," She stated, a playful tone taking her voice, as she adjusted her dress, fingers moving over her silver necklace, dangling from her throat, touching the object gingerly, absently._

_"Mademoiselle I'd be delighted to assist you in dancing," He took her arm, "Besides, I need the practice."_

_"That you do." She joked solemnly, "That you do."_

_They walked across the Court of Miracles, laughing and joking, making their way out of the entrance, carefully as to not be spotted, before heading to town. They walked past fellow Gypsy's, and townspeople minding their own business, before finally reaching the area near the Cathedral. Notre Dame's bells rang loudly in the court, before the two began to set up, calling over a Gypsy male on the Trumpet a few yards away to play music with them._

_"Now Esmerelda," He smiled, "Do you remember what to do?"_

_"I'm old, not dumb, just start dancing." She glowered, smirking as he began getting a subtle rhythm with his feet. "Is that all you got? My my, you are young." She reached out and grabbed his arms, putting a different rhythm to her heels, "Follow my lead Clopin."_

_The young Gypsy watched as her feet dipped and swerved around each other, in a silent beat. The Trumpet found a tune appropriate and up-beat with the moves, smiling behind the mouth-peice. Mimicking her motions with his own heels, they stepped together in a silly dance, townspeople stopping a moment to watch. A few Gypsy's from further away had slowly began to join, untill there were about three or four groups of Truands dancing._

_The Trumpet had been joined in with a man on drums and a woman on the flute, who were swaying their hips to the music as well, the crowd around them getting somewhat bigger, coins being tossed their way. Clopin collected a few before rejoining arms with Esmerelda, who had her other other arm joined with another Gypsy._

_Nobody noticed the sound of horse hooves clattering against the cement, advancing towards the crowd._

He felt dry chapped lips brush against his own, before a heavy thudding was heard at the door. "Minister Frollo, there's an emergency." The judges head pulled away from the Gypsy, turning to face the door, an air of frustration settling around him.

"Are you that useless, to be unable to handle this yourself?" He snapped, voice grating and loud. There was a pause outside of the door.

"Sir, you had requested we inform you immediately if some of the Gypsy's were to escape." A heavy sigh escaped his lips, pushing off of the Gypsy king, but not releasing his hold of the mans arms. The knight outside of the door took the silence as if Frollo wasn't coming, so he gave one last try. "Captai-" He cleared his throat. "_Ex-_Captain Phoebus has Escaped, along with 30 others, most of them dancers from what we could tell, others palm readers-"

"Enough," Frollo snapped, "Meet me outside, I shall be there shortly."

"Yes sir." The knight seemingly saluted, before heavy steps began to echo down the hall, growing quieter as he left. Frollo's eyes looked from the door, and trained them on the Gypsy king below him.

"You hear that little Gypsy? It sounds as if your little _toy_ had escaped," The judge sneered, "Having manipulated him with your evil.." His voice cut off, forcing himself not to get off topic. "No matter," He amended, ducking his head, leveling his eyes with the other deep warm chocolate orbs. "He'll be made an example of soon enough." He paused, pursuing his lips in a thin line before pushing away from the Gypsy king, quickly fixing him robe to look more presentable, moving those cold fingers through his hair, moving it back before replacing his hat.

Frollo gave the Gypsy a sideways glance before moving towards the door, a key moving from the judges sleeve and slipping into the lock. The Truand moved his body so he was sitting upright, head turning subtly towards the door when he heard a soft distant slam, before a 'click' sounded off and retreating footsteps. Frollo was gone.

The Gypsy made a face, before spitting in the direction of the window, wiping his mouth vigorously with the back of his arm.

The weight of his situation seemed to crash down on him like a waterfall, and he suddenly felt like dying. Clopins breath increased tenfold, shakily running a hand through his terribly disheveled hair. He felt paralyzed, trapped like a rabbit in a cage, a prisoner without a leash, he was to be trapped between the walls for..-

His heart felt like it was about to burst through his rib cage, and fly out of his chest. His body shuddering, and he can't recall the last time he felt such fear. His thoughts were running a million miles an hour, and he couldn't get them to slow down long enough for him to understand what they were or what they meant. Wobbly moving to stand, he felt as if his body would collapse, his legs feeling like fragile sticks carrying more than they could handle.

He moved to the cold cement wall near the window, he needed air, he needed to get out of here. The palm of his hand made contact with the cold cement, and for some reason it seemed warm. He pressed his forehead against the concrete, turning his body so his back was pressed against the hard material, it was steady and solid, and everything that Clopin wasn't at the moment.

His back slid down, landing on his rear. He could still feel the chapped lips touch his own, and he could feel bile daring to creep up his throat. He swallowed hard, making a disgruntled face in the process, his eyes squeezing shut together; Clopin drew his legs closer to his body.

He couldn't leave, he couldn't leave, he couldn't- Hands pressed against his face, trying to pull some sense of reality from this nightmare.

He wanted to escape, it would be so _easy _to just slip out! But no, he had his people to think about- He sighed shakily into his palms, If he left hundreds of people would die, if he stayed he would have to suffer and become a shell of what he used to be. What he is.

Wrapping his arms around his legs, he buried his face into his knee's.

_Clopin stepped out into the light, there were so many people. His horror couldn't subside, watching as the last of the knights drifted down the court, the last of them leaving. Climbing carefully, quietly into the open, his eyes were attacked with the image before him, all the body's, the colors of purples and greens, whites, and so much red._

_The sight was beautifully macabre, and terrifyingly petrifying, feeling his heart beat so much slower in his chest, while the air around him seemed to be in slow motion, nothing seemed real. Reality seemed like a distant memory at the body's surrounding his feet, he hadn't realised how many Gypsy's had been dancing until their corpses were thrown at his heels._

_He couldn't contain the bile as it seeped up his throat, retching over, clutching his gut as he violently heaved. He choked, coughing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing increasing. He could feel how empty the streets were, the silence ringing in his ears, everyone had run._

_His eyes were darting across the bodies, horror tugging at his heart and clenching up, sending unpleasant chills of adrenaline up his spine that he was too paralyzed to even consider using._

_The knights had come, they approached while they were all dancing, while they were all enjoying themselves, and began slaughtering without warning. He remembered the screaming and the yelling, Gypsy's running, but none seemed to get away- There was crying, and townspeople running from the scene. Fear drawn so vividly on everyone's face's._

_A man, a Judge by attire, lead the knights, shouting orders, and watching with impassive indifference at everyone dying, at the children screamed, and the mothers begged. He didn't care._

_Esmerelda had pushed him away, had screamed at him to run, and he did. He thought she was following him, he thought she was right behind him, and perhaps at some point, she was._

_He stepped over a childs corpse, and felt deep sorrow penetrate at his heart, he was so little. His eyes caught a glimpse of silver, head snapping in that direction, and a purple and white dress caught his eyes._

_"No." He felt the word pass his lips, but he couldn't recall having made the order. His feet running without permission, and arms darting out without consent._

_He dropped to his knee's next to a mutilated body, eyes growing wide, and breathing becoming short and erratic. "No, no, no-" He kept repeating the word, as if it could change something, or make what he was seeing untrue. Maybe it could prove that he may be wrong, maybe if he said it enough it may become true._

_Clopins shaking hands reached out, hesitantly, tears tugging at his deep chocolate round eyes, lower lip quivering as his fingers brushed across the hem of her tattered dress, resting against a silver necklace. "No." He whimpered, his motions becoming surer within themselves, grabbing her shoulders and shaking them, she had to get up, she had to move._

_"Please.." A sob escaped his lips, finger-tips digging into her shoulder, "Don't go." His hand coming in contact with a warm liquid, pulling it back abruptly. He closed his eyes, fighting back tears that were already escaping, another body wrenching sob escaping his lips, his body shaking._

_Another sob, softer, sweeter, penetrated his ears. Clopin sniffed, dropping his hands from his face, eyes darting up. Another cry, louder this time, a child. The young Gypsy made to stand, before stopping, looking down at the woman, before softly reaching downward and softly pulling the necklace from her neck, careful as to not harm the body any worse. He looked at it, a simple silver chain; he pulled it over his head, touching it softly before looking at the body, a frown tugging at his lips._

_The crying was starting to become persistent, and Clopin stood to his full height, trying his hardest to not glance at her again, it was too hard; fighting another sob that tried to escape his throat. He had to be strong, Gypsy's were lost every day..- Louder and louder, harder and harder, the weeping continued. Wiping the back of his hand against his cheeks, brushing away the fallen tears, he saw a small child._

_Tiny and delicate, with short black hair tuffing on the top of her small head. Clopin saw her hunched over a few mutilated corpses, and frowned. He frowned because everything was wrong, he frowned because he lost someone he cared about, and he frowned because he wasn't the only one._

_The child didn't seem to be more than two years of age, her eyes red and puffy, tiny body shaking as she sobbed heavily. Screaming as each cry escaped her throat; Clopin reached for her, but she flinched away, each cry rocking her body. His eyebrows furrowed together, making soft cooing sounds to calm her. The little girl looked up at him, tears streaming down her flushed puffy cheeks, deep chocolate brown eyes looked up at him._

_Clopin hushed the distressed child, reaching forward his hand, grabbing her small arm delicately. She flinched slightly, but didn't pull away, he took that as his incentive to continue. Black clad hands reaching forward and clutching her armpits, hoisting the child upward. Her arms reached forward, grasping at his shoulder as he pulled the small child to his torso._

_"Hush little one," He whispered, patting a hand on her back. Her chubby hands clung to the colorful dark purple cloth covering his shoulder. He rubbed his hand on her quivering back, holding her tightly in his grasp before running away from this unjustified massacre._

_He felt like he had been running for miles, further and further, deeper into Paris. The small child clung to his clothing, soft tears streaming down her face. His breath slowly started growing short until he had to stop._

_Panting, he looked around, the streets were full of life the further he had run, a few on go-ers were watching him, clutching a small child, and looking pale. A sniff made his eyes look down at the tiny Gypsy, who was looking up at him with wide sad eyes; forcing his own grief below the surface, he smiled at her, a reassuring warm smile._

_"Can you speak little one?" He questioned, but the child merely stared. He could have easily assumed that she couldn't, seeing as she was still so young, but he had to be certain._

_Clopin wasn't entirely sure what to do with her, he just knew he had to get her safe, incase the knights were to return. She had no family he was aware of, her parents were dead; His eyes settled on her flushed face, a black clad finger rising and wiping away a stray tear._

_He remembered how it felt to lose his parents to Judge Turpin, and could sympathise for what this child felt, losing her own parents to Judge Frollo. She was so little, and perhaps couldn't understand what she had lost, but only knew something was wrong. He remembered how alone he had felt, like there was nobody there for him. Esmerelda was there for him, but not enough, though she did try._

_He couldn't let someone else suffer the way he did. Feel as alone._

_The child sniffed, and Clopin ran a hand through her soft short tuffs of hair. "Hush now, there is no need to fear, Clopin is here." He whispered soothingly to her, "You won't have to be alone, I'll protect you little one."_

_The child cooed softly, chubby hands clutching him tighter, he held her tightly, protectively in his arms. He smiled down at her, he wouldn't have to be alone anymore, and neither would she._

_"Little Esmerelda."_

* * *

No, these aren't in Italics because I ended it in Italics- So whoot!

Anyone see what I did there? It was probably stupid- But I thought the idea of Clopin raising Esmerelda (As a little sister and such) would be cute. (Considering that it happened in a musical performance- or something of the like with that kind of plot line) It'll be important to know for later chapters. (I know in the book it's different, that she's brought up by two Gypsy women, and it doesn't really specify in the Disney version, but oh well.) I thought the concept was cute, and usable so yeah. And the name, I thought, had to be sentimental in some way, to make this sound better, because there obviously wasn't an Elder named that, nor do I know what happened to Clopins parents (OR who the Judge was before Frollo.) Just some plot lines I threw in to make it more pleasing for you guys, and I hope it worked.

Also: "_Va te faire foutre." _means 'Fuck you,' in French. (I think, Google Translate can't be trusted.)

So- Anywho, thank you guys for reading, I hope you guys enjoyed and don't forget to review~! ^^LLAP.


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